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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26083810">Not the Only One</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgataVarano/pseuds/AgataVarano'>AgataVarano</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Scar [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abusive Parents, Adoption, Arguing, Domestic Violence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Lara is a total badass, Protective Siblings, Siblings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:21:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,945</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26083810</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgataVarano/pseuds/AgataVarano</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Families are extremely complicated.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Natasha Romanov (Marvel) &amp; Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character &amp; Original Male Character, Sam Wilson (Marvel) &amp; Original Female Character(s), Stephen Strange &amp; Original Female Character(s), Wanda Maximoff &amp; Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Scar [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1826437</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Not the Only One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>• English is not my first language, so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes.<br/>• You can find this and more fics on my Tumblr @/let-me-write-my-life and my Instagram @/agata_varano.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>When they all come crashing down mid flight, you know you're not the only one. - Evanescence (The Only One)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>During the following three days, Lara never leaves the Sanctum, determined to find out the truth behind the words and figures Natasha gave her. But even if she still can't read between the lines of that code, it's no mystery to her </span>
  <em>
    <span>who</span>
  </em>
  <span> wrote it. The intricate puzzle that has formed in front of her eyes is one of those able to keep her from sleeping, but she wants to, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>has </span>
  </em>
  <span>to solve it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sitting at a small table in a corner of the Sanctum library, she stares attentively at the piece of paper in her hands and repeats the sentence in her head. Is it a reference to something? Maybe some poem… No, it doesn't sound like poetry. It could be a motto, but it's quite long to be such. The translation makes no sense. </span>
  <em>
    <span>"The family of snakes will choke the tiger and the eagle, unless the daughter redeems the son."</span>
  </em>
  <span> What does it mean? She repeats it out loud, both in Russian and English, hoping it can help her somehow. Nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She moves her focus to the numbers. Is it a phone number? No, it's too long. Is it a date? Maybe, but what happened on the 9th October 1985? Or is it written as European dates and means 10th September 1985? And what about the chaos of figures that follow? It may be a code for something that-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Lara?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She jumps on her seat, suddenly coming back to reality, and then lets out a breath when she recognizes the scarred hand on her shoulder. "Yeah?" She asks, turning to face Stephen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He throws a quick glance at the piece of paper in front of her, then hands her her phone. "If you don't plan on answering it, at least mute it. I'm trying to meditate."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Stephen leaves the room, Lara stares at the screen, an unknown number written in bold characters. "Hi," she says, answering the call.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A metallic voice comes from the other side. "17 Wolcott Ct, Boston. You'll find rather interesting things there."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lara adjusts on the chair, crossing her legs and slightly turning her head to the side. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hears footsteps, then some curses in Russian, something heavy falling on the ground. "I don't have time for this. You'll understand when you get there. Bye."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lara doesn't even have the time to reply that the other has already ended the call. She furrows her brows. </span>
  <em>
    <span>17 Wolcott Ct, Boston. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Why is this place so important? </span>
  <em>
    <span>"Guess I'll have to go, then," </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thinks as she gets up, shoving the scrap of paper with the mysterious code down her pocket.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lara slowly opens the metal door of the hallway, looks to her right and to her left, then finally steps out, silently closing the entry behind her. As she skirts the whitish wall, she carefully looks around for security cameras: nothing. Knowing how security guards usually work in small bases like that, they are probably having a coffee. Amazing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finding the main office isn't hard in such a tiny building and Lara is even surprised there's one in there. She puts on her old Agency X jacket, even though she doubts anyone will notice her anyway. She's been able to conceal deep scars under cheap drugstore foundation for seven years, there's no way she's getting caught.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, Sabrina. How are things down there?" Sam's voice resonates in the woman's earpiece as she turns and moves upstairs. He sounds strangely happy to be on a mission, despite today being his day off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She throws a glance at a redhead man reloading his gun while he tries in vain to get a blonde woman's attention. "Great, but I haven't seen anything interesting yet." She takes a smaller and more empty corridor, almost colliding with a tiny guy running in her opposite direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam chuckles. "On the other hand, I've just seen a video of Barnes falling down the stairs." He adjusts himself on his chair. "You really should see it, it's great."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lara knocks on the office door, mentally revising the codes Natasha has found by hacking the informatic system of the base. "I'm afraid I'll have to wait to enjoy such a masterpiece," she answers with a smile. "I have to go now."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She mutes her microphone just in time for someone on the other side of the door to scream for her to come in. When she enters, Lara meets the sight of an Asian woman, dressed in a blue jumpsuit and surrounded by computers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Agent 10 is looking for you. You're awaited downstairs for urgent matters," Lara lies, hoping the woman won't question what she's just said as she isn't even sure if Agent 10 actually exists.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily for her, Agent 10 does actually exist. The woman frowns. "I thought he was sending his son here today," she comments while she gets up and tries in vain to adjust her messy hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lara is about to speak when she is interrupted by the security guard. "Well, better for me. That guy is an ass, but his father is way kinder." She turns to Lara, her short bob hair moving around with her. "Do me a favour and take care of the stuff down here while I'm out, okay?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The witch doesn't even have the time to nod that the guard has already left.</span>
  <em>
    <span> "So this is how it feels not having trust issues,"</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thinks, smirking as she opens the closest computer and types the password. Her eyes open wide before the insane amount of files on the screen, all meticulously divided into sections to grant easier access.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Information quickly leaves the Agency X database for the S.H.I.E.L.D USB pendrive, filling it with names and locations. Lara is about to exit the room when she notices one file, hidden in a corner of the screen, in a folder named "Project 57". </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sandra Houghton.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The name rings a bell in her mind and she clenches her jaw, remembering what she had learnt years before. After coping and opening the file, she gets to read a bunch of relatively useless personal information about her own mother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She's about to close everything and leave, when a small detail on her mother's photo catches her attention. Right above the neckline of her mustard shirt, there's a tiny, golden pendant. A snake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She swallows hard, connecting the newfound information to the mysterious code Natasha gave her, then something wraps tightly around her throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lara digs her nail into the forearm clenching around her neck, before kicking whoever has attacked her in the shin. According to the muffled scream of pain, it must be a man. She turns around and elbows him on the head, but is surprised to be instantly kicked on the ground, her opponent pressing a blade to her neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"S.H.I.E.L.D spies are becoming dumber, I see," the man says with a smug grin, a few strokes of dark hair falling by the sides of his face. The tiny label on his jacket reads "Agent 29."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lara clenches her jaw before pulling a knee to the man's stomach and getting up to run away. Unfortunately she is once again stopped by him twisting her wrist and almost punching her in the face with a violence that could have broken her nose. Could have, but didn't, because she is fast to stop his fist and twist his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man doesn't stop despite his unsuccessful attack and goes on punching her over and over, but he is over and over stopped right before his knuckles get to break some bones. He finally changes his tactics and, with a quick movement of his fingers, he controls the air around Lara, sending her against the nearby desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without even thinking it through, Lara moves a hand and throws a splinter of metal at him, almost impaling him. The man manages to stop the attack by redirecting it to the floor and, his eyes wide open, he stares at the piece of lethal iron now stuck in the ceramic tiles. He then looks at the woman getting up in front of him. "Why the hell do you have my powers?!" He asks, surprise written all over his face, as if the only thing he believed in had just been proved wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> have </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> powers!" Lara fires back, pointing a finger to him as she steps forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tired of such an annoying infiltrator, the man kicks her in the stomach and pushes her against a wall. But Lara is even more tired of the even more annoying opponent and headbutts him hard enough to make him take a few steps back. She elbows him one last time on the jaw and finally manages to immobilize him on the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What the heck are you doing there? You were supposed to leave twenty minutes ago." The half annoyed half concerned voice of Natasha gets through the earpiece and Lara is fast to turn her microphone back on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I had a little inconvenience, but I'm fine," she answers, twisting the man's arm to keep him from moving. "Also, I have a little surprise for you guys."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I have a better question: how the hell did you get head-butted by Johnson? You're at least five inches taller!" Tony exclaims as he sets his eyes on the man sitting before him at the Avengers Headquarters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other one takes a deep breath, fighting the urge to kill the inventor. "Is this part of the torture or you being annoying as f*ck is just a surplus?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lara huffs in annoyance. "If I were you I'd just be happy </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> interrogation techniques are not accepted around here." With two fingers she casually plays with her amethyst necklace, her eyes still studying him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve sighs and crosses his arms on his chest. "Can we focus back on my question?" He moves his gaze between the interrogated and the other interrogators. "Is it true that Agency X has connections with Hydra?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lara deliberately chooses to ignore the man's answer, studying his files instead. After moving her gaze through an insane amount of statistics and figures, she finally looks up to his name. Funny how she had not searched it before, but it had been Sam to check his documents, she had just listened to the man's complaining about her dirty fighting and some occasional insult to Tony or Steve.</span>
</p><p><span>As she reads those letters, her heart stops for a second. </span><em><span>Jonathan Houghton. Born September 09th, 1985. Project 58. Code: 5562848.</span></em> <em><span>"So this man is the interesting thing that the informer wanted me to find."</span></em><span> She bites her bottom lip, wanting to ask but afraid to be answered. Because, after all, is it really worth it? Yes, it is.</span></p><p>
  <span>"I told you, I don't even know what Hydra is," the man repeats, the device on his neck beeping as his tone raises. Tony thought it could be helpful to keep him from using his powers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lara turns to him, staring at him right in the eyes and doing a couple of steps forward. "New question: do you know the woman I was reading about earlier on?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waits for a moment, deciding whether he should tell the truth or just invent something. In the end he decides he doesn't care about the person object of conversation enough for him to lie. "Yeah, unfortunately." He pauses, noticing Lara stepping forward. "She's my mother."</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"F*ck. F*ck. F*ck. F*ck. F*ck. F*ck. F*ck. F*ck. F*ck. F*ck. F*ck. F*ck. F*ck. F*ck. F*ck."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"Tell me you're lying," she pleads, crossing her arms and clenching her shirt. She hopes with every fiber of her being that he is making fun of her. She doesn't know what she would do if he wasn't.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonathan adjusts himself on the chair. "Why should I? Being that woman's son isn't exactly something desirable nor convenient."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lara sighs, a stroke of hair falling down as she tilts her head to the side. "You have no idea how much I agree with you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonathan frowns. "Sorry, how do you-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lara looks up at him straight in the eyes. "I'm your sister."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man freezes, mixed feelings devouring him. His sister, the one whom they had told him had died when she was just a few days old, the one his father has always told him about despite his mother's protests, is not only alive, but is also on his opposite side. The little child he had never got to see but that had always been an aching memory for his poor father had grown up to become an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. and is now fighting her family of her own free will.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallows before throwing her a deadly glance. "I hope fighting your own parents is at least a pleasant experience."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lara lowers her eyebrows and steps forward, arms still pressed to her chest. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>My</span>
  </em>
  <span> parents died thirteen years ago. The ones you're talking about are terrorists."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonathan clenches his fists and for the first time in thirty-seven years he finds himself defending his parents. "But it's because of them if you're who you are."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks at him right in the face, her expression not changing in the slightest. "That's exactly the point."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jonathan looks around himself as he sits in his cell. Everything is quiet, that prison is way calmer than Agency X ones. He lets out a breath before leaning with his chin on his hands. His heart and mind are divided between his sister and his family. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has never met the former, yet he knows his father cared deeply about her. He always told him how hard it had been to part from that small, fragile child who looked more like a frog than a human. Furthermore she didn't look dangerous and she had treated him relatively well, even before she had found out about their relationship. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The latter, however, has never been the kindest to him. His mother is probably one of the worst human beings he has ever met, while his father is a kind man who had had the misfortune to fall in love with a woman he was too weak to deal with. His only sin was not being strong enough to stop her when it was too much. Jonathan can still feel the pain in his cheeks from all the punches and slaps she inflicted him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But they are his family, his parents. And even though he wants to stay away as much as possible from his mother, he still knows someone has to protect his father, someone has to stand up for him, even if it means being beaten up until he passes out. He can't turn his back on his father, not for a sister who clearly hates him and everything he has done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His thoughts are interrupted by a muffled giggle coming from the adjoining cell. Jonathan turns to see a woman leaning against the glass between them, her mahogany coloured hair framing a face almost paler than the concrete wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leans back, adjusting on his seat, and looks at her with a curious gaze. "What's so funny?" A strand of hair falls on his face again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman moves a stroke of hair behind her ear, her big smile not fading from her lips. "You've really chosen the best person to be arrested by. Everyone knows that woman hates the Agency with all her heart."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He breathes out a laugh as he stares at his feet. "I noticed it, thank you," he answers, crossing his arms on his chest. He is then struck by lightning and turns to the woman. "Wait, do you know her?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughs. "Nope, sorry. But that's common knowledge here in New York." She moves closer to the glass not to be heard by others around them and goes on. "I don't know exactly what has happened, but they say that she has worked with the Agency years ago. It seems like the experience was so bad that she left and years later she began fighting them."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonathan furrows his brows, suddenly interested in what he would have, in any other circumstances, considered futile gossip. "What happened?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman shakes her head. "You're asking too much! I have no idea. According to some rumors she had problems with depression and that kind of thing, but I'm not sure why."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonathan swallows before mumbling a quick thank you and moving to the other side of the cell, getting lost in his thoughts again. Knowing the person you're supposed to fight has been through the same things as you really makes it harder for you to hate them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Are you sure you want to interrogate him alone?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lara nods before taking a sip of coffee. "He's one of Feige's closest collaborators, I don't see why I should not ask him some questions."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wanda shrugs. "Maybe because he wants you dead since you offended his whole family </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> almost broke his nose?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lara rolls her eyes as she places the mug in the sink. "A lot of people want me dead, yet here I am," she says with a smirk. "I'll be just fine."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jonathan looks at the man in the cell in front of his and furrows his brows in anger. </span>
  <em>
    <span>"If you don't immediately stop with the 'I swear I'm innocent' shit, I'll kill you in your sleep."</span>
  </em>
  <span> The ticking of the button on his neck reminds him that, unfortunately, it won't be possible. Unless he wants a 50 mA electric discharge right down his spine, of course.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's saved from his annoying neighbour by a security guard, who opens the door of his cell and steps forward to handcuff him. "You're awaited for interrogation," the big man says as he drags him down the corridor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Again?" Jonathan asks. "Don't you have anything funnier to do around here?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guard rolls his eyes, but says nothing. He then enters a small room on the left end of the hallway, where he forces the man on a mildly uncomfortable iron chair before leaving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonathan inspects the room, but he's surrounded by nothing but light coloured walls and some metallic furniture that has definitely been there for longer than he's been alive. With a disgusted grimace he looks down at the table before him, a couple of reddish stains on the dark grey surface.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's the blood of the last person we've interrogated." Jonathan looks up and sees Lara stepping towards him and sitting on the chair on the other side of the table. "Or Maximoff's cherry vodka, you decide," she concludes crossing her arms on the cold surface and carefully avoiding the mysterious liquid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs. "What do you want again?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Answers. And you happen to be the one who's most likely to know them."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A laugh escapes his lips. "And why should I answer all of your questions, my dear little sister?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leans against the back of the chair, her arms still locked. "Because you don't want to spend the rest of your life in jail, because I didn't kill you even if I could, because I could still kill you but I won't. Again, you decide."</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"This one talks just like that Russian blondie,"</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thinks. "And what if I decide not to talk all the same? How are you going to get rid of me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lara tilts her head to the side, hair falling down on her shoulder. "Luckily for you, I stopped killing agents six years ago. Now I only help them."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonathan laughs again. "By arresting them? You have a very personal concept of 'help'." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"By giving them a second chance," she says leaning forward. "Most of them work with the Agency because they're desperate and broke and, when they get here, they're often happy to tell me everything they know in exchange for a penalty discount. Some of your old colleagues now work with S.H.I.E.L.D, some have a life outside of here. Some find another work, some don't but are happy to be free again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span> is how I help them. I try and show them that there are better options out there, that there may be a second chance for them, if they want it." She looks down sadly and lowers her voice. "This is how they helped me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What follows is an unnatural silence that seems to last forever. Jonathan lets out a breath and looks down as well. Finally he brings his gaze back to her face for a moment, a newfound rage in his eyes. "I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to make me feel guilty, guilty because I haven't been given up for dead, guilty because I've never had to read my name on some file and find out I had been adopted."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fights the restraints around his wrists chaining him to the chair, the metallic sound produced by the handcuffs only adding to his ranting. "You are trying to make me feel like I didn't have to see my father cry over a baby I had never seen for years. Like I didn't have to feel myself forced into perfection by a ghost, because I had made it and you had not. Like I didn't have to be glad because I was alive, as if I had sucked the life out of your lungs!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice suddenly raises, one last sentence screamed out with unheard rage. "You are the reason my father wants to die!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as those words leave Jonathan's throat, Lara jumps up and holds onto the metal table, her knuckles turning white as her grip tightens. Jonathan wouldn't be surprised to see that old piece of iron breaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you even hear yourself?!" She screams, but her face doesn't change colour in the slightest. Her eyes could kill, but her features still have a lingering calm in them, as if there was something holding back the rage, keeping the fury at bay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her tone raises, yet Jonathan would swear her voice has a light sadness lingering. Her eyes are set afire, but it almost looks like tears are ready to burst out any moment. "I don't even know who your father is! I was just born when I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>abandoned</span>
  </em>
  <span>! I was perfectly healthy, I was perfectly fine, my only sin was being born too weak for you all to use me as a weapon!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cries out these words before letting go of the table and collapsing on the chair, her gaze no more set on the man in front of her but lost in the void. She shakes her head lightly, her voice weaker. "But I… I don't care, I can live with this," she says. "About what you've said, I'm not trying to make you feel guilty, I'd earn nothing from it. What you're feeling right now is your own conscience and there's nothing I can do about it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finished talking, Lara slowly gets up and heads to the door behind her interlocutor, she sticks her head out and gestures to a guard to come in. Before he can even realize it, Jonathan is back in his cell, the only noises being his neighbour's cries and the unceasing beating of the device on his neck. And, of course, his conscience.</span>
</p>
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